


archery shenanigans

by EMBLEMYSTIX



Series: CYNOSURE // FE3H ONESHOT COLLECTION. [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, lorenz makes a cameo appearance as a subject of insult, no beta we die like Glenn, reader is not byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMBLEMYSTIX/pseuds/EMBLEMYSTIX
Summary: Your ego takes a massive hit when you attempt to learn the art of archery — you realise you have severe issues when it comes to trying to shoot an arrow with a bow. Claude von Riegan thinks that’s very funny and helps you polish up on your skills ( amidst several punches to his guts and a slew of insults thrown his way. )
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Reader
Series: CYNOSURE // FE3H ONESHOT COLLECTION. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	archery shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be finished and published on july 24 but...i procrastinated too much and my midyears was hounding my ass :(  
> anyways,, debut oneshot,, IM GONNA CROSS MY FINGERS AND HOPE PEOPLE ENJOY READING IT HFWTESUFDSFSDf ( i'm being serious,, i'll break down if it's bad )
> 
> 11TH SEPTEMBER: the more i read this oneshot the more i don't like it I'LL REWRITE...the ending. Yeah i hate the ending i'll get to editing it when my finals r over so if you read the ending and you hate it. Yeah

**IT’S BEEN A LONG WHILE SINCE** the last time you’ve felt _this frustrated_.

Frustration isn’t a feeling foreign to a perfectionist such as yourself — striving for greatness and aiming for flawnessless is your vibe and your way of approaching things in general. To you, nothing beats the feeling of improvement and satisfaction. But frustration itself can get, well, _frustrating and vexing_ , especially when you cannot, _for the life of you,_ get it right or at least get better at it. 

You remember the struggles you had with embroidery when you were nine-years-old, a little girl trying to pick up the art of weaving an intrinsic picture thread by thread with nothing but a needle and a few colours of thin string. The skill of embroidery had always evaded you as a child, however — you remember how you were trying your best to stitch a picture of a cat onto the thin white cloth, and how it turned out to look like some disfigured abomination instead. You remember how your mom looked at you, a little helpless as she watched your face scrunch with anger and frustration at your own inability to do proper embroidery (never once had your mother imagined how someone, let alone her own daughter, could mess up _that badly_ with something as simple as needlework.)

The intensity of your frustration in the present moment rivals that feeling from years ago. 

You furrow your brows at the fact that the last arrow you just shot was horribly way off the red bullseye marker, instead plunged deep into the side of the board. Just mere moments ago, you had confidently declared that you would hit bullseye with only your first arrow, and when you didn’t, you swore you’d do it in the next five arrows you shot.

Well, it’s...needless to say that you’ve screwed up big time.

From beside you, you hear Claude’s laughter ring in your ears as he watches that arrow lodge itself into quite the inaccurate spot, which is rather amusing for a talented archer such as himself. You scowl at him, making it clear that you’re certainly not appreciating his reaction to your current bow-and-arrow disaster.

“Not so easy after all huh, [Y/N]?” The brown-haired male remarks, chuckling as he hands you another arrow from the quiver while earning himself a click of your tongue and a glare in his direction.

Your archery performance is rather disappointing, to say the least. With all those arrows littered across the concrete ground, you’re not even inclined to believe that this “marvellous” performance is truly your doing. This disappointing result is a massive punch to that ego of yours, and you’re _hurting._ It's been about fifteen minutes since your attempts to at least shoot an arrow close to the bullseye marker, but nothing has improved. You make a mental note to yourself never to brag about your combat prowess ever again.

Claude snorts as you squint at the archery board. “Dude, even Lorenz can do a better job at archery than—OW! Hey! What was that for, [Y/N]?!”

You glare daggers at the Almyran teen, while the latter makes an exaggerated pained face, rubbing the poor left shoulder that you just punched hard earlier. “Compare me to that man with the atrocious haircut, and I will not hesitate to punch you in the throat,” you hiss, as you return your attention to the board before raising the bow up again, ready to take aim.

“Right, right, I’ll stop,” Claude mumbles wryly, which suddenly makes you feel a little violent. There’s no warning when your fist comes flying towards him, connecting with his stomach. You often like to let your fists do the talking if your words aren’t effective to get your point across — like they say, actions speak louder than words and you see that in the way Claude clutches his abdomen, face contorted in pain as he yelps. You give him one of your most condescending smiles.

The raven-haired male looks at you like a kicked puppy — except he wasn’t looking cute, rather he was just looking stupid. “OW! Seriously? A punch to my gut? At this rate, I’ll really get diagnosed with a case of broken ribs...are you that desperate to see me in _pain_?”

You scoff. “As you totally deserve. Be glad I didn't run with what I said and punch you in the throat. Unless you want me to fulfil my promise.”

“Please, mighty woman, I don’t wanna get a rib fracture. I don't like pain and I don't want to hang out in the infirmary with Professor Manuela.”

“What, do you have trauma from staying in the infirmary for five days that one time you got yourself seriously injured?”

“Yeah,” Claude replies, shivering at the memory, “It mentally scarred me, y’know…”

“Huh. Sure,” you mutter, now dissociating and no longer paying attention to your classmate’s oh-so-miserable sob story. You pull the drawstring of your training bow, trying to aim for the red marker with your arrow before you release it, allowing it to cut through the air and find its target. Unfortunately, the trajectory it takes is far from ideal, as you watch it puncture the side of the board yet again.

You grimace at your failure again. “I hate this, I hate it all.”

“C’mon. You’re obviously tired from all the sparring we had earlier in the night before...all your attempts at archery, and training now isn’t gonna do much to help you. If you want, I can teach you some techniques tomorrow when the sun’s up again,” Claude offers, cocking an eyebrow. You eye him warily with your [E/C] orbs, searching for potential mischief dancing in his chocolate-coloured eyes, but you detect none. 

You suppose you’ll take him up on the offer. Claude von Riegan is one of the most skilled archers that you know — you could pick up a thing or two from him. He may be a jokester, but he’s not a liar.

“Okay.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

**YOU’VE BEEN AWAKE FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW** — you’ve been tossing and turning in your bed, the memories of your archery misadventures looping in your head over and over again. You’ve been unable to sleep throughout the whole night, your embarrassment getting the better of your shuteye. You’re not sure if you’ll ever recover from that tragedy.

Well, but what’s done cannot be undone. It’s not like you have the power to reverse time to erase your mistakes anyway, and beating yourself up internally for that wouldn’t make it vanish either. You look out of the window, recognising the all-too-familiar sight of dawn upon the earth. Great. It’s time for you to continue where you left off yesterday night. 

You get up, changing into your monastery attire. Sundays are scheduled as off days for students and teachers, giving you a day to yourself to do as you please. And there’s no way you’d miss a chance to get better at archery — as much as you hate facing your weaknesses, you know the strengths and rewards that would come with it. 

It’s not like you’re on your own at archery now, anyways.

Quickly, you slip into the dormitory building where Claude resides in, before you knock on his door rather discourteously. It takes a while for him to respond and open the door to face you, with his groggy eyes and him still dressed in his sleeping attire.

“Sunrise. Archery practice. Now,” you state bluntly, as if you’re the one who’s going to train him, not the other way round. Claude looks at you, a little bewildered at your awkward enthusiasm, before looking outside the window. The skies are dusted hues of peach and magenta, lighting up the once-dark blue skies and turning them a shade of sapphire, with the sun peeking out from the horizon. 

He turns back to face you, giving you a look of dazed confusion. “...But I didn’t mean to...start...training...this...early...?” 

“You said you’d teach me when the sun’s up _.”_

“Geez, you’re so enthusiastic about this. I think I’m regretting this offer.”

You look at him with an arched eyebrow, cracking your knuckles.

Claude sweatdrops, recognising what you’re just about ready to do to him if he says the wrong thing again. All of a sudden, he doesn’t feel so groggy and sleepy anymore. “Hey, calm down, calm down! I was just kidding! I’ll get changed soon, and then we can get started on training.”

You tap your feet a little impatiently on the wooden floor. “And how long will you take?”

“Eh, I don’t know, maybe an hou—OW! My ear! Give me a few minutes!”

“Great, thanks.”

With that, Claude slams the door shut, and you wait.

(There’s frantic fumbling in the room.)

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

**YOU’RE EAGER TO GET RIGHT INTO** the training grounds, but Claude has other plans. 

Here the two of you are, in the dining halls of the monastery. The chefs in the kitchen look a little surprised when they see you and Claude this early in the morning. The two of you hardly frequent the dining hall at this hour — to have the two of you show up at this time is a little bit unusual.

“One scrambled eggs with vegetables, Head Chef,” Claude orders from the menu, before looking at you, eyes signalling to you to place your order.

“Uhm. Just give me a fish sandwich, I guess,” you add, as the woman nods, before heading right into the kitchen to prepare both of your breakfast meals. You turn your head to the side to face your house leader.

“Why are we here?”

“Well, you can’t just train with an empty stomach, it’s just common sense!”

You stare blankly at him. It doesn’t take long for Claude to realise why. His face morphs into an expression of bewilderment at the realisation. 

“Wait, don’t tell me you don’t eat breakfast—”

“No, I don’t,” you snap, cutting him off. Claude wants to open his mouth to say something in retaliation, but he stops himself when the head chef appears again, this time with two plates in her hands. She passes the two of you your orders, bemused by the conversation she just walked into. You give her an awkward smile (which looks way more like a grimace), while Claude flashes her a brazen smile, thanking her for the meal. Needless to say, the boy is way better than you when it comes to social interactions. Goddess, you hate yourself sometimes.

As the two of you make your way to one of the empty tables, Claude opens his mouth to resume the conversation that was interrupted seconds ago. “How do you train with an empty stomach?’

“Dunno. I’m just used to it.”

“And that’s where you gotta change,” he says as the both of you sit down opposite each other, before picking up his utensils, “because it’s unhealthy.”

“I don’t remember asking for a lecture from you,” you reply monotonously.

“No, I’m serious! Training goes way more efficiently that way, I swear,” Claude argues, picking up a spoonful of vegetables and putting it into his mouth while you chew on your fish sandwich.

“Isn’t that just wasting time? It’s not like I don’t get by fine without eating breakfast.”

“No, it’s not! I mean, look at me. I don’t train like a madman, but I sure do have some formidable skills. It’s all about maximising the efficiency of your training, and breakfast helps with that,” the boy explains, mouth full of food. 

“...I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” you answer thoughtfully, biting into the last of your fish sandwich. You suppose there’s some truth to his words — you’re not opposed to food in general and to be honest, you’re enjoying your breakfast. Huh. You learn something everyday. Cool.

Claude lets out a chuckle at your words. “You should! I mean, it’s not like you'll get on my level quickly by doing that, but still—”

You pound your fist on the table, momentarily startling him, and he gulps in reflex. “Can you just shut up and eat? Eating breakfast isn’t wasting time, but eating your breakfast _slowly is_ wasting time. I might just sock your face in right now if you keep on talking.”

He puts a hand up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! You’re so scary sometimes…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

**YOUR ARCHERY TRAINING STARTS OFF FOR THE DAY LIKE THIS:** for the first five minutes, you demonstrate your horrible novice archery skills for your house leader — he observes, he notices, and he remembers all the unnecessary movements and mistakes you make. He mentally notes down whatever it is that you need to work on, ranging from your default stance to your bowslinging technique — in his mind, a list of these problems are arranged neatly and he tries to figure out a plan to best ameliorate your horrendous archery abilities. 

Of course, that doesn’t go without him teasing the shit out of you for your amateur skills, a few curses and punches to his gut _yet again from you_ and a few yelps of pain coming from him. He wonders why you take such pleasure in hurting him sometimes. What’s up with you and your violent tendencies? He supposes he wouldn’t know since he’s more of a peaceful diplomat who prefers to communicate through words and not action. Someone ought to tell you that your brutal, no-nonsense attitude is the reason why most people seem to be intimidated by you whenever you appear in their line of sight. 

“Sometimes, I think you’re really out to hurt me,” Claude winces for the fourth time in the training grounds. For a girl, you have quite a lot of power packed into your punches (they don’t call you a formidable brawler on the battlefield without reason). He swears that by the end of this, he’s probably gonna develop immunity to pain signals from his gut. Exaggerated, but you get the point.

“Sometimes, I think you’re really out to annoy me,” you retorted with a scowl, narrowing your eyes at the boy as you put down your bow and face Claude. “Can we just get to it already?”

Claude flashes you a wry smirk. “To what?”

“Need I say more, or would you like my fists to talk instead?”

“Damn, relax! I was just pulling your leg! We’ll get to the real thing now! Just...show me that stance you’ve been assuming for the past few minutes and draw your arrow, but don’t release it yet.”

You do as you’re told, placing your feet onto the ground and positioning yourself, feet facing vertically in front as your body twists slightly towards the archery board. At the same time, you raise your training bow up, taking an arrow and pulling the drawstring, fingers grabbing onto the string with every finger on your hand. You don’t fire it as per instructions, however, and instead you look at Claude expectantly, waiting for him to say something next.

Error #1: Your grip. 

Claude, unlike you, had already predicted this to be a source of your archery failures, examining how your fingers curled awkwardly around the arrow. The tension in your finger muscles is a cause for concern. 

“Your stance is fine, you’re relaxed, and that’s okay. Your grip, however…” At that last word, Claude falters a little, trailing off as he thinks of how best to relay your mistakes to you. You frown a little, inferring from his tone that there’s a lot of things you’ll have to work on to get better, although you’re not surprised. “Never mind, release your hold on the string first, but don’t change your grip.”

Claude takes up a random bow sitting at the corner of the training grounds, grabbing an arrow as he prepares to demonstrate the proper grip of a good archer. Unlike you, he’s pulling on the drawstring with only three fingers, with his pointer finger on top of the arrow and his middle finger and ring finger below. 

“Try using three fingers for your grip instead of all five. Index finger on top of the arrow, and the other two below it,” he says, giving you a few seconds to look at his grip before he puts down his arm. “Don’t use all five fingers because it’s gonna be hard for you to stabilise your grip on the arrow. You’ll sabotage your own shot, y’know?”

You nod. Okay, you’ve got this. Adjusting your grip on the bow, you pull on the string once again, this time trying to follow what Claude had demonstrated earlier. Your pinky feels this awkward tension, as you openly try to keep it away from the string by extending it.

“Wait, no no no! Let your pinky curl naturally, you don’t want all that tension hung up on your fingers or you’re gonna get hand paralysis!”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his dramatic usage of words while heeding his instructions. “Seriously. Hand paralysis?”

“Okay, not hand paralysis. You’ll just get hand cramps. I’m sure you know how _that_ feels like. Yeah, that’s better!”

This time, your arrow kind of knocks off from the bow, falling sideways as it falls off the rest on the bow. You scrunch your face, narrowing your eyes at the arrow. In an attempt to keep it intact, you try to rest your finger on the arrow against the bow, but as soon as you pull the arrow further, it falls off _yet again._ The scowl on your face deepens.

“...Help,” you weakly mumble, turning your head to face Claude who tries to stifle a laughter (but fails ultimately — you furrow your brows in displeasure.)

Unable to hold his laughter after a few seconds’ attempt, the Almyran teen lets out a chortle. “Watch the fingers of my right hand and look at what I do with it to keep the arrow from falling like that,” Claude says as he pulls on the string with an arrow, directing your attention to the way the muscles of his hand flexes. 

Error #2: You’ve fixed your general grip on the arrow itself, but there’s another adjustment that you’d have to make to your hands to keep your arrow flying straight — your knuckles aren’t supposed to show prominently and you’re not supposed to be clamping the base of the arrows with your fingers.

Goddess, you think that you’re really stupid sometimes. How did you not think of doing what Claude had done to stabilise the arrow?

“See how I do it? Just keep the back of your hand flat, your knuckles shouldn’t be showing — I know you like to brawl and punch people but archery’s not about channeling your power into your hands. Keep it relaxed, and keep it loose!”

You deflate at the sentence about you punching people, giving Claude an irked glance. “For your information, I only punch the people who walk on my nerves.”

“Literally everyone walks on your nerves, help!”

You groan, before giving him a not-so-light kick with your legs which causes him to yowl with pain. “You’re one of the few people who walk on my nerves all the time!” you spit, glaring at him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m sorry you have such a low tolerance level for teasing, it’s just too fun to poke fun at you!”

“Sometimes, I think about kicking your face and dislocating your jaw. But it’s really easy for me to turn that into a reality. You know that, don’t you?”

“Relax, you’re so violent! That’s not very cool...”

You roll your eyes, cutting off the verbal banter with your lack of response as you direct your attention back to archery practice. You hold the arrow and bowstring in its place, putting whatever you had learnt in the last few minutes into practice and trying to get used to the feel of the new grip. Surprisingly, you find yourself having better control over the placement of your arrow. You nod your head slowly, impressed by Claude’s efficient teaching abilities but not compelled to show appreciation for it in light of him and his annoying remarks about your violent tendencies. 

Part of you thinks that you probably could do this because you’re naturally a fast learner and you don’t have terrible hand-eye motor coordination, but the more rational, logical part of you doesn’t think that you’d ever find fault with your grip had Claude not pointed it out to you. Still, you decide on adopting the former part of your thinking as your truth and disregard the latter to make you feel better about yourself, and to get back at Claude for his shenanigans.

Applying your newfound knowledge to your archery skill, you release the arrow — this time, the arrow flies straight in front of you. However, it flies over the board itself, lodging right into the wall above it. The arrow splinters, a dreadful sight you don’t wish to see as it breaks into two, falling unceremoniously onto the ground. At this awful scenario, you deflate. Claude nearly lets a chortle escape him, but he catches himself before the laughter fully breaks free from his throat.

“What’s wrong with you? Stop laughing at all my mistakes and help me instead!” you snap, imaginary steam billowing from your ears as you face Claude.

“Damn, relax a little and let me have a little bit of fun! No point taking this all serious, y’know…”

“Yeah, yeah. Funny for you, annoying for me!”

“Alright, alright! Take it easy, [Y/N]! It’s not like you’re not improving quickly…”

You huff. Claude can’t quite pinpoint if it’s you conceding to the truth in his words, you disagreeing with him, or a mix of both. “...Right.” 

Error #3: Your aim. It’s pretty evident from that unfortunate arrow accident that your aim isn’t right — you can’t quite seem to wrap your head around why it is so. You’re pretty sure you’ve been aiming for the middle, so why is it that you’re not _actually hitting the middle_ with your arrow? 

“You should aim a little lower.” 

You look at him incredulously. “Lower? I was positioning my arrow in the middle.”

“No, no! Look at me, eyes on my figure. You might think you’re aiming for the bullseye and that your arrow is perpendicular to your body, but that’s not actually the case,” Claude demonstrates, his bow tilted upwards. “See how high I seem to be aiming? That’s exactly what you’re doing!” 

You blink a few times, letting the information sink into your brain. “...Oh. Sorry, I seem to be lacking common sense today,” you admit reluctantly. Your ego feels like a ship sinking helplessly into the waters of a raging storm.

“Don’t fret too much about it, we all learn,” Claude comforts, smiling brightly at you.

You narrow your eyes at your house leader. “What happened to the Claude that kept shitting on me for my archery skills?”

Claude seems to be taken aback by your sharp question, eyes widening in slight bewilderment and mouth hanging open slightly. “H-hey! I’m trying to be nice now, and you’re asking me such a question? I’m genuinely sincere about what I said! I’m seriously not joking.”

“I—” you begin to retort, but you cut yourself off, closing your mouth. You’re gonna admit, that sentence Claude had said seconds ago didn’t sound like it was laced with any form of sarcasm or joke, now that you think about it. You swallow the words you wanted to say before, and with it, the last few pieces of your pride. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He blinks a few times at you. “...Well, that’s a lot, coming from someone like you—”

“What do you mean by ‘someone like you’, huh?”

“N-nothing! Just...just shoot your arrow. Ignore me. I think you’re all set for an amateur archer now.”

Claude passes you another arrow from the quiver, and you take it. Drawing the string of your training bow, you attempt to put everything you’ve learned from Claude to use, determined to make history today and secure your first bullseye on this fine morning. No one is gonna make fun of you for being an archery idiot ever again, you’d make sure of that with this one shot. 

Except...you don’t release the arrow.

Error #4: You’re holding your aim for far too long. Your arm shakes a little as you try to adjust your aim, unsure if you’re aiming low enough or if you’re aiming too low. The perfectionist in you is certainly not helping. 

“[Y/N], just shoot the arrow! Don’t think so much about your aim!” Claude shouts, urging you to release the arrow. 

“Am I aiming too low, Claude? Am I doing this correctly? Or am I aiming it too high?” You ask unsurely, still trying to calibrate your aim. 

“I can’t answer that for you! You don’t know about the full accuracy of your shot until you’ve released your arrow! Just let go of the poor thing, [Y/N]! Trust yourself.”

The muscles in your arm are beginning to feel the tension and the strain from the amount of time you’re keeping the drawstring of the bow pulled. Your muscles feel like they’re begging you to relieve the tension that’s tiring your arm. You can’t help but give in to the need to let go. Taking a leap of faith, you release the arrow and let it fly.

When the arrow hits the red spot of the archery board, you find yourself suddenly ceasing to function.

You blink once, twice, thrice. Four times, and then five.

Was this...truly your doing?

“You...did it. You did it,” Claude says, confirming the question in your head with a ‘yes’. It takes a good, long moment for the success of your shot to fully register itself in your brain. 

“I...did it,” you repeat, in awe. You’re still stunned by your unprecedented success. The more rational part of you nags away at you and says that it’s definitely a one-time thing and a fluke, but you decide to ignore that part of your brain to relish in your success.

For the first time, you’re smiling genuinely. It’s a small smile, but it’s extremely rare to see the corners of your lips lift up that way, given how easy it is for you to get annoyed and hold a frown or a resting bitch face instead. Claude is pleasantly surprised by the grace in your smile — has he ever seen that before? 

You turn to face your house leader for the first time without condescension or irritation on your face. “I’ll admit that...I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks.”

Claude finds himself grinning at your success, feeling appreciated by you for once and feeling proud of himself. “Hey, it was no problem at all! Although...I gotta say I didn’t sign up to be the victim of your violent tendencies…”

“...Sorry for those. You were just walking on my nerves, I had to do it to preserve my sanity.”

“For your information, punching people for no good reason is not something a sane person would do—Ouch! And the uncool, violent [Y/N] is back…Your punches really sting!”

“You were testing me again,” you deadpan, the smile now replaced with your default scowl. 

“Hey, my point still stands!” Claude argues back.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Silence falls upon the two of you, suspending both of you in a trance. Claude stares at you, and you stare back blankly, not too sure how you’re supposed to react when he’s looking at you like this. It’s a little bit awkward to you, but you’re not really gonna complain — to you, it feels strangely... _alright._

“You’re making weird eyes at me. Spit out whatever you wanna say, Claude.”

“...Can you smile again? I’m gonna be honest, that smile was _really pretty_ on your face.”

_“Hell no.”_

“Aw man!”

**Author's Note:**

> first attempt at a oneshot ;; originally i wanted to write a dimitri oneshot because he’s my absolute favourite character BUT this idea kinda flew into my galaxy brain so...i...wrote...this...instead...
> 
> i hope i got all (or at least SOME parts of) the archery techniques and stuff down in this oneshot? i did some research to try and accurately depict a beginner archer and all the mistakes they’d probably do so that (a) i could make the oneshot longer and write more claude x reader content and (b) make myself sound like i know what i’m writing LMAOOO
> 
> ALSO I REALLY APOLOGISE IF CLAUDE’S OOC IN THIS ONESHOT!!! atm i haven’t played the golden deer route yet and i was basing all his character on the flimsy foundation created by my very limited interactions with him in the monastery on my blue lions run + a couple of claude x reader oneshots on this site. i’m hoping i got at least a fraction (??) of his character down accurately.
> 
> anyways. i hope you enjoyed this oneshot,, i’m actually kinda proud of it. thank you for reading! have a great day/night ahead. <3


End file.
